


Ikrêsik

by LadyLaran



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Genderbending, NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 17:05:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7516279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLaran/pseuds/LadyLaran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Valar created the races of Arda, they gave each race a unique means of finding their soulmates.  Clover Baggins discovers just how different the way her people find their ones is from how the dwarrow do it!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ikrêsik

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alauralen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alauralen/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Luszel or Pon Farr, Dwarrow Style](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7050181) by [Alauralen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alauralen/pseuds/Alauralen). 



> Author’s Note – I found an amazing work in progress by Alauralen regarding a Hobbit kink suggestion where if a dwarf finds their One, they go into a mating rut (much like Pon Farr in Vulcans). I got to messaging her and decided to make a story of my own based on this suggestion, dedicating it to the wonderful writer who pulled me into this idea! She requested the pairing for it, and I got to work on the tale.
> 
> According to the Dwarrow Scholar, Ikrêsik means the act of joining and that seems to fit what I was hoping to show in the story. 
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story.

When the Valar created the beings who would inhabit Arda, there had been some concern about how to ensure each person found their other half. Since each Vala loved their creation, none of them wanted any of their children to live their lives alone. The discussions about identifying mates went on for quite some time, and Nienna had pointed out the issue about the disparate life spans between each race. That issue sparked another debate, and it seemed as if no answer would be found to remedy the situations being discussed.

Finally, it had been Ilúvatar, who had been listening to the debate, who had made the suggestions to help move things forward. For those beings who had destined ones outside of their race, the lifespan would increase to match the one from the longer lived species. Afterwards, He told the Valar to come up with a unique way for their children to find their mates once maturity was reached.

For elves, when they or their mates came of age, they would dream of their destined one and be given a pull to follow. That pull would lead them to their mate and could bond when the pair was ready to do so.

Men were allowed to see color only when they had met their mates, and it taught them to appreciate life with their soulmates in fullness.

Yavanna decided that her children would have the name of their mate written on the inside of their left wrist. If a child was born ahead of his or her mate, the name would appear once their mate was born.

It was only after a long conversation with His wife that Mahal decided on what to do for His dwarrow. He had crafted them to be stubborn and quickly recognized that His children would be slow in building their numbers unlike hobbits or men. So the smith had decided to give His children an unusual way of recognizing their Ones and ensuring the bond was made between them. Yavanna had also gifted a touch of Her magic to the process, knowing Her husband’s concerns about the fertility of His children.

Mahal had been successful in His plans and was pleased with the results. His children went about their tasks, joining with their Ones once they recognized them, and though they were doing well, every race outside of the dwarrow had no idea what the Vala had gifted them to help recognize their mates. It simply wasn’t spoken of.

 

~*~*~*~

Thorin II Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, was in a serious quandary and had quite a few thoughts running through his mind as he stared blankly at the beautifully carved desk that had been put into his recently cleaned office. 

“Are you certain of this,” he asked his cousin, looking up to meet Balin’s eyes.

“Aye,” he replied, giving a deep sigh. “Oin said the only reason he hasn’t felt the ikrêsik before now is because of the danger surrounding the company since leaving the Shire. It wasn’t safe to claim his One before now.”

Thorin sighed, running a calloused hand over his face as he tried to come up with a way to help his shield-brother without condemning someone he had claimed as family into a life she didn’t want.

“Where is she?”

“Working in the kitchen gardens,” Balin said, still looking so very worried for his younger brother. “She is determined to get them ready for winter so things will be easier when spring arrives.”

“I’ll talk to her,” he told his advisor, rising slowly to his feet. “I’m not going to put pressure on her to agree to this, but I’ll leave you to see to the preparations in case she does say yes.”

“Thank you, Thorin,” he murmured, bowing before retreating to carry out the king’s request.

Thorin headed down to one of the few areas within Erebor that allowed for sunlight and rain to enter; this particular spot had been chosen as the kitchen gardens centuries back, and it was protected from intruders because the opening to allow light and rain came from the top of the mountain. Bombur had shown it to the hobbit after the battle was over, and she had taken it over without any complaint from the company or the dwarrow who had remained behind to restore Erebor to its former glory.

The hobbit lass had been a true surprise to all of them. Thorin himself had put her under his protection when she’d put herself at risk to protect his sister-sons before reaching Rivendell, and she bore the scars of the warg that had pounced Fili and Kili. He had claimed her as sister when she’d placed herself between him and the pale orc, determined to protect her heart family and her words claiming him as part of that family had filled the small clearing.

In so many ways, Clover Baggins was as fierce and loyal as his shield-brother was and the king knew that Mahal and Yavanna had forged together two souls that were perfect for each other. The problem was that Thorin had no idea how hobbits recognized their Ones, and he would be damned if he let his sister bind herself to someone if he was not her soulmate.

“What dark thoughts you must be thinking, fy mrawd. You are frowning more than usual,” a soft voice chimed, drawing him from said thoughts.

“Something has come up that I must speak with you about, little sister,” he answered back. “Are you finished here?”

“As luck would have it, I finished just a few moments ago. The kitchen garden is ready for winter,” Clover replied with a smile.

Thorin guided her to a sunny spot beyond the beds, allowing her to sit down before taking a seat beside her.

“I do not wish to intrude on any secrets your people may have, Clover, but I find myself in a position where I must ask this. How do hobbits recognize their Ones?”

“It isn’t a secret,” she assured him, brushing a tawny curl out of her eyes. “Yavanna writes the names of our cariads upon the skin of our left wrist. If our cariad is born after we are, we are born without a mark and will gain the name once their other half is born. Some hobbits are born after our cariad has entered the world so we have the mark already written on our wrist before we leave our mother’s wombs.”

“Sounds a bit easier than how Mahal has done it for us,” he mused, looking at his sister and spying her fussing with the fabric that covered her wrist.

“Some might think so, but it can be frustrating for those of us who are born with a name written in a language we cannot read,” Clover told him. 

“Are you one of those?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I had no idea what culture created the writing I wear on my wrist until I spotted Ori writing in his book. It was before the wargs attacked us,” she informed him. “I have no idea who my cariad is, but I know he or she is a dwarf.”

“May I,” he asked, holding his hand out.

Clover nodded, resting her left hand in his with the palm facing up. She watched his face as he gently pushed the sleeve up, revealing the dwarvish runes that had graced her skin since birth, and she could see relief, happiness, and worry play on that bearded face.

“You know who it is, don’t you?”

“I do,” Thorin said, gently turning her hand over and patting it. “The name is Dwalin’s.”

Blue eyes widened, looking into eyes that were a slightly darker shade of blue as she searched her brother’s eyes to determine if he spoke truly. When she saw the truth, her body relaxed for a moment.

“How do dwarrow know when they’ve found their Ones?”

“This is something we don’t speak of often, even amongst ourselves,” he told her, still holding her hand. “Our creator knew just how stubborn we can be when it comes to things we don’t expect so He decided to make it happen in a way that we can’t miss.”

Clover blinked but didn’t speak, letting him continue at his own pace. She could see a light blush showing where the beard didn’t cover but decided not to tease him. The hobbit knew that this was important and stayed serious.

“Usually, our people are slow when it comes to reproduction. Occasionally, we might take others to our bed but those affairs are few and far between. When our Ones enter our lives, our souls recognize their other half and starts the process of bonding the two together. Our bodies go into an overly sexualized state where all we can think of is our One and need them desperately; we call it ikrêsik or the joining. It can last for several days and is the truest form of marriage to us.”

“What happens if the One doesn’t join with him or her,” she asked, blushing herself.

“The dwarf will end up dying as his or her body will burn itself out,” Thorin answered honestly.

“Dwalin is facing this now, isn’t he,” the lass asked, chewing her lower lip.

“He is. Oin suspects that the danger we’ve faced since leaving the Shire kept the ikrêsik at bay for him since it wasn’t safe for him to be with his One. The journey was no place for such a thing, especially as we remain needy for our Ones after bonding,” he told her.

“What’s going to happen now,” Clover queried, still meeting his eyes.

“First, I know you wanted to stay in Erebor to remain with the family we’ve crafted here so remaining isn’t a problem whether you agree to this or not. If you decide to go through the ikrêsik with Dwalin, then there will be certain things that must be done before you go to him. Is this what you want, little sister?”

“I promised my father I would never run from my cariad once I found him,” Clover told him quietly. “Dwalin is an honorable dwarf who is loyal to his family, and I will be part of that family once this happens. I think he would be good to me.”

“He would be,” Thorin assured her. “As you are not dwarrow, you will not be going through the extreme physical need that we do when we go into ikrêsik. You will be given a potion to take to help you keep up with his heightened appetite during this time. It will burn itself out at the time the ikrêsik fades from Dwalin, and that will happen after the bond is formed and is completely stable.

“Once the pair of you emerge, an announcement will be made and often times, there’s a braiding ritual so that the family can be a part of the process. That’s followed by a feast to celebrate the bonding of a new couple so everyone can bestow their wishes for a long, fruitful marriage. Do you have any questions?”

Clover licked her lips for a moment, willing her voice to remain steady and not show the nervousness that was starting to build in her chest.

“This state he’s in, will he be aware of what’s going on or is it more instinct driven like when animals go into heat,” she asked, blushing and hoping he wouldn’t take the question in the wrong way.

Thorin realized her concern and was quick to try to alleviate it, having a suspicion he knew why she was worried about that.

“He’ll be aware,” he told her. “Even though the need is high, he would never do anything to cause you pain. Our instincts tell us to protect our Ones, even before bonding occurs, and even ikrêsik cannot dull that instinct.”

The hobbit drew in a slow breath and nodded, squeezing her brother’s hand once before asking her next question.

“What happens now?”

“Balin will have summoned Oin, who will be waiting with Eira by your quarters. He will ask a few questions before handing her the potion that will help you through this, and she will aid you in getting ready for Dwalin. Since Dis isn’t here to fulfil the sister’s role in this, Eira will do this for her,” Thorin informed her, speaking of Dain’s wife. 

“Once you are ready, you’ll be guided to where Dwalin will be waiting. Someone will be outside the door at all times to supply food and drink since there have been some reported instances of ikrêsik taking a while due to the bond being slow to form,” he concluded.

When he asked if she had any other questions, the hobbit shook her head. He squeezed her hand gently, smiling at her as he did so.

“Are you ready, little sister?”

At the positive response, Thorin rose to his feet and helped her off of the bench. He walked with her to her quarters, which were near his and his sister-sons, and kissed her forehead before releasing her.

“Mahal and Yavanna bless you,” he murmured softly, taking a step back to watch as Oin, Eira, and Clover disappeared into the hobbit lass’s rooms.

The healer emerged a few moments later, task complete, and he nodded at his cousin.

“We should deliver the news to Dwalin,” the gray haired dwarf commented. “Not having doubts will help as he waits for her.”

The king nodded, falling into step beside his cousin as they headed towards the room kept for any member of the royal family who went into ikrêsik. The door was built to withstand any attack from outside or within, and it ensured that the One joining the dwarf going through this had a chance to make their choice without any pressure.

They found Balin waiting outside, and the elder dwarf gave a sigh of relief when he spotted the nod from his royal cousin. Thorin unlocked the door, and the trio entered the room to find Dwalin sitting on the floor with his back against the wall.

The warrior looked overheated and was obviously struggling with control, and all three of the newcomers were glad to have good news for him.

“I spoke to her, Dwalin,” Thorin stated, gaining his cousin’s attention. “Yavanna marks Her children with the name of their soulmates on their left wrist; your name is written on her wrist, and she has consented to bonding with you.”

“She has my name,” he asked, voice a low rumble.

“She does,” the monarch answered. “From what I understand, Clover has worn your name on her skin since birth and only recently discovered what the script was. She did not know whose name it was until today.”

All of them could see Dwalin’s body relax a moment at the confirmation before shuddering. Oin spoke up then, knowing this information needed to be given before the hobbit arrived.

“Eira is standing in for Dis,” he told him. “When I gave the potion to our cousin to give to your One, she answered the question I had for her. Dwalin, you must have a care at the beginning. Hobbits are celibate until they find their Ones, and Clover comes to you untouched. The potion will help push any pain from the first time aside, but you can harm her if you’re not cautious. Understand, laddie?”

After Dwalin nodded, all three of them wished Mahal’s blessings upon him before leaving the warrior to wait for his One.


	2. Bonding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – This is a complete work of three chapters; I’m posting all three of them tonight. I hope everyone enjoys it!
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make money from this story.

Once Oin had left her room, Clover looked over at Dain’s wife to find the dwarrowdam smiling at her.

“I know that was a bit embarrassing, cousin, but it’s necessary. Oin will inform Dwalin so he will know to be careful during your first joining,” she informed her, handing her the vial that the healer had entrusted to her. “Take this, it should take effect by the time you have finished bathing and are on your way to where Dwalin is waiting.”

The hobbit took the vial, downing the contents with a shudder as the thick fluid covered her tongue. It was foul tasting, and she gratefully accepted the glass of water Eira handed her.

“The bath is prepared,” the dwarrowdam informed her. “I’ll lay out a dressing gown for you while you bathe.”

Clover hurried into the bathing room, stripping out of her attire and stepping into the warm water. She enjoyed it for a moment, allowing the heat to ease any tension from her muscles, before she picked up the soap and began cleaning herself. The lass took care to ensure every inch was clean before washing her hair.

Once done, the hobbit exited the tub and dried herself off, not wanting to catch cold. Only some of the smaller forges had been lit so each room in the mountain required the fireplaces to keep things warm as the chill of autumn sank into the stone.

Eira helped her into the dressing gown before coming the wild, tawny curls that spilled to almost the middle of her back. As she did so, the dwarrowdam gently questioned the lass.

“Are there any questions you have that I can answer for you,” she asked, not knowing if Clover would need any guidance before going to Dwalin.

“Mama was able to explain things before she passed,” Clover answered softly. “I am nervous though.”

The woman smiled into the mirror, meeting the hobbit’s blue eyes. When she’d heard of Thorin taking the lass as his sister, she’d kept a careful watch over Clover and found that she had the courage of a dwarf resting within the smaller frame. She and Dain had approved of the adoption, gladly accepting her as cousin, and Eira had fought alongside Clover during the Battle of Five Armies.

“Every dam is when she joins with someone for the first time,” she soothed. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m sure Thorin told you that it’s instinctual for us to ensure our Ones are not harmed in any way; I know Dwalin would never do anything to hurt you.”

“No,” she admitted. “He wouldn’t; he was always keeping an eye on me during the quest, and I never heard anything negative from him. He was the one who pushed for me to learn how to use a sword when they found Sting in the troll hoard.”

“That is one of the ways he shows his care of those he cares about,” Eira confirmed. “The circumstances wouldn’t allow for ikrêsik to happen, but he knew that you were important to him and wanted to make sure you were protected as much as possible.”

The smile she was given was beautiful, but it was quickly erased when a low burning heat began making itself known. Eira spotted the flush building on the light skin and realized what was going on.

“We need to get you to Dwalin,” she murmured, setting the lass’s comb aside.

Eira guided the hobbit out of her rooms and towards the room where the dwarf was waiting. By the time they arrived, Clover was shaking as the potion took stronger effect and she had to lean against the dwarrowdam to stay on her feet.

When he saw them, Thorin unlocked the door and opened it to allow his sister entry into the room. The three males and Eira murmured blessings as the hobbit passed through the doorway.

Clover didn’t register the sound of the door closing behind her; her eyes were focused on the dwarf standing a few feet away from where she was. She watched as Dwalin walked up to her, clad only in a pair of light trousers, and he took her left hand in his. The sleeve of the dressing gown fell back to reveal where the runes were written by Yavanna’s hand upon the skin on the inside of her wrist.

“My One,” the burly male murmured, brushing a kiss across the runes. He felt the shiver that swept through her and did it again, looking up to see the flash of desire crossing her face.

“Cariad,” she murmured, slipping her arms around his neck when he drew her close and claimed her lips for the first time.

The short beard and long mustache was both wiry and soft against her skin as his lips pressed against hers, and she gave a soft sound of pleasure when his mouth opened, tongue lightly teasing to persuade her to opens hers. Clover did as he wanted, moaning when she felt the press of his tongue against hers, and she could feel the heat of his body when he pulled her snugly against him.

He groaned into the kiss, feeling the soft curves pressing against him, and she shivered at the deep sound. The fire that had been growing since she’d taken the potion suddenly seemed to ignite at a much higher temperature when she felt the solid strength of him as well as the hard length pressed against her belly. 

His hands slipped from her lower back, sliding to the front to untie the dressing gown. She managed to let go of him just long enough for the soft fabric to fall from her shoulders into a puddle on the floor, and her fingers found their way back around his neck to sink into the short fringe of hair. 

Both could feel her nipples hardening in the cool air, drawing his gaze to her breasts. The hobbit cried out when a strong hand cupped one of them, squeezing gently before leaning down and in to draw the nipple into her mouth. 

Clover felt the heat intensify at the wonderful feel of his mouth on her nipple, shaking as he suckled there for a few moments. She could feel the dampness between her thighs, realizing her body was readying itself for her cariad, and her head fell back when he moved to the other breast to lave and suckle at the nipple there.

“Dwalin,” she rasped out, body shaking harder when he carefully applied teeth in a gentle nip before soothing it with his tongue.

Her knees buckled when he did it again, just a bit harder, and he was quick to catch her. He picked her up, carrying her over to the bed and setting her down in the center.

Clover was very keen of his gaze on her, knowing her body was still too thin due to the lack of food during the last part of the quest. Her unease faded when she spotted the fire in his blue eyes, realizing he very much liked what he saw.

“Beautiful,” he told her, unlacing his trousers and dropping them to the floor.

Mahal and Yavanna have blessed me was her first thought when she finally got her first look at her cariad. During the quest, she’d made sure to keep her back to them as they’d bathed and whoever was on lookout for her had done the same in order to ensure her safety at all times. Now, Clover knew just what she was missing.

Dwalin was powerfully built with muscular arms and legs; his chest was heavy with muscle, and his abdomen was as well. The only soft thing about him was the hair on his chest and legs as well as the trail of hair that led to the large member that rested against his lower belly. Instead of feeling anxious at the sight of the proof of his desire for her, she felt another rush of heat.

While other hobbits would be put off due to the scars, tattoos, and powerful build, she found him to be beautiful in her eyes and she smiled at him.

“I have been blessed with a cariad who is so very handsome,” Clover told him, making his eyes go soft with tenderness before the blaze of heat from the ikrêsik burned the expression away. 

The dwarf climbed into the bed with her, kneeling over her as his hands began exploring her soft skin. Like him, she bore scars from the times she’d defended members of the company and he found them to be beautiful as they bore testament to her bravery.

Her breath caught in her throat for a moment before a moan filled the air when calloused hands returned to her breasts, weighing and squeezing them gently before her cariad leaned in to alternate between the nipples. He nipped and suckled at them until she was writhing on the blankets, pleasure building up in her lower belly with each passing moment.

Dwalin slowly abandoned her breasts, exploring the soft skin of her belly and finding areas that made his One moan with pleasure. He would lightly rake over those spots with his teeth, teasing to help build the heat he knew was burning through his hobbit lass’s veins.

When his sensual exploration of his soulmate reached the juncture between her legs, he ran gentle fingers through the curls that lightly covered the mound before parting the outer lips to dip a single fingertip between them. The heat and wetness that greeted him made him groan, and he slid his finger up to find the pearl that was one of the keys to his Clover’s pleasure.

Clover jerked slightly at the soft touch, eyes widening at the sensation, and he laid his free hand on her belly to soothe her.

“All right, gayadê,” he asked, sounding concerned for her.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” she admitted. “I’m all right; please, keep going.”

Dwalin smiled at that and caressed her pearl once again, keeping his touch very light so as not to overwhelm her. At the moan she gave, his eyes turned a darker shade of blue as passion built and he leaned in. He lapped at her pearl, growling at the deeper moan she gave, and she was soon moving into each touch he gave.

It didn’t take long before she came, calling his name as her body bucked and convulsed with pleasure. The dwarf simply continued with his actions, enjoying the taste of his one as her body released more wetness. He pushed her over the edge into bliss several times, sensing that each one was more powerful than the next, and he reluctantly pulled away when he heard her call his name.

“Dwalin, please,” Clover begged, hands clenching tightly to the bedding. “I need you.”

The warrior didn’t have to ask what it was she needed, moving into position over her. He grasped his hammer, maneuvering it to enter her forge with ease.

“Are you sure, gayadê?”

“I am, my Dwalin,” Clover answered, meeting his eyes. “The Valar crafted us for each other, and I do not want to walk this life without you.”

Dwalin kissed her, sliding carefully into her untried body. He paused at the right moment to allow her a chance to adjust before thrusting deep into her. Thankfully, the potion kept her body at a fever point of arousal and helped to dim the pain of this first joining. All he heard was a soft whimper when her maidenhead was taken, and he fought through the demands of the ikrêsik to allow her time to relax. 

Clover gently tugged on his mustache, pulling him into another kiss. She felt whole now that they were joined, and she could sense the bond that had started when he’d entered her and couldn’t wait to see how it would feel once it was complete.

“Move, fy anwylyd,” she instructed, groaning deeply when he obeyed.

The hobbit wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him in deeper, and it didn’t take her long to move with him. She matched his rhythm, vocalizing her pleasure in ways that made his own desire spin out of control. He thrust faster and harder, giving her every inch of his hammer, and she wailed her pleasure aloud for him to enjoy.

His control snapped when she begged for more, and it didn’t take much at all before the pair of them fell into bliss. Her body convulsed around his hammer, causing the tight channel to become even tighter, and he thrust deep into her forge as he came.

After a few moments, he rested his weight on his arms as he laid his forehead against hers. Both of them were panting, and he took a few moments to simply breathe her scent and memorize it. The bond had started, and it would take a few more times before it would be complete and the ikrêsik would fade from him.

“I’m glad it’s you,” Clover murmured, voice soft as she struggled to calm her breathing.

“Truly,” the warrior asked, surprised and pleased by her words.

“Truly,” she answered. “Even though most of the company doubted me, you never treated me as a burden and always looked out for me. The times you stayed close by, even after I began proving myself to everyone, I always felt safe.”

“Most would say I frightened them and would want me away,” Dwalin admitted.

“Most people are idiots,” Clover stated, smiling when she heard the laughter from her cariad. 

The hobbit promised herself she would do whatever she could to ensure she heard that unrestrained laughter from her warrior more often. Before she could contemplate more on that, she felt him harden within her and the fire burning through her viens flared in response.

“Again, gayadê?”

“Again, fy anwylyd,” the lass purred, claiming his lips for a deep kiss.

Dwalin kissed her back, determined to ensure her pleasure as long as the ikrêsik held him in its thrall. He would cherish this time, sensing the growing bond between them, and take every opportunity to learn his One’s body so he would be able to continue to please her during their life together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note – Gayadê is khuzdul for my joy. Huge thanks to the list poplitealqueen put on her tumbler for khuzdul endearments! Another Welsh phrase to interpret - fy anwylyd means my beloved. Okay, the dwarven terms for penis and the women’s genital area is rather different, but I felt it would work given the circumstances.


	3. Celebration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – Here’s the last chapter! I hope everyone enjoyed this tale; I had fun writing it.
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story.

Thorin received word of the couple’s emergence from the room two days after Clover had entered. He smiled, glad to hear the news, and sent messages to the rest of the family. The king had used the time well, preparing for the braiding ceremony and feast for his sister., and he hoped she and his shield brother would be pleased with the results of the hard work the company had done.

The king left his study, hurrying towards his sister’s chambers since he knew Dwalin would be attended by his brother to help ready for the braiding ceremony. He heard voices behind the door and knocked, going in when he heard Clover’s voice call out.

Going from the wet hair that Eira was combing out, it seemed his sister had finished her bath and was examining the skirt of the gown he’d commissioned for her.

“Thorin, this is too much,” she told him. “We’re still busy rebuilding, and a dress for this would have pulled at least one person away from the restoration work.”

He laughed at that, knowing his sister worried too much over things. The dress had been important to him, and it suited her well now that she was wearing it. The Durin blue, which she was entitled to wear due to his adoption of her as his sister as well as her marriage to Dwalin, made her tawny hair look more golden. 

“I think it looks lovely on you, little sister, and I am pleased to be able to finally spoil my sisters. I have a few gowns being made for Dis as well, and they’ll be in her chambers when she arrives,” he told her. “This is a special day, Clover, and I have a right to prove that I am proud of my sister and happy she found her One.”

“As you wish, fy mrawd , but you know I am not one for expensive things,” Clover said quietly.

“I know, but I have the right to ignore that and do it anyway. Dwalin will most likely do the same as we tend to spoil our Ones as much as possible,” he countered. 

“I suppose,” she sighed. “Reminds me, where are my things?”

“Fili and Kili moved them to the suite I chose for you and Dwalin,” he stated. “You’ll need more room since you’re married now.”

“Let me guess, the one on the upper floor down the hall from your suite,” the hobbit asked, keeping her head still as Eira worked through the tangles in her hair.

Thorin grinned; he’d tried to get her into that suite so his sister would have surroundings worthy of her. She’d turned it down, choosing a simple bedroom, and now he could have her closer with the rest of the family. Clover had no way to argue with him, and the amusing expression on her face told him she knew what he was thinking.

“Nice guess, little sister,” he chuckled. “Balin agreed and had Dwalin’s belongings moved there too once it was ready.”

“Underhanded means of getting your way, fy mrawd. I’ll have to come up with suitable punishment later,” she pouted. “So the braiding ceremony, is it similar to the one we had when you claimed me as your sister at Beorn’s?”

“Very similar,” he answered. “Before you worry, I have a bead for you to put into his hair. I spent some time at one of the smaller forges to get it done.”

“Thank you for taking care of it,” Clover told him, staying still as Dain’s wife coiled most of the tawny curls into a very intricate chignon that had a strand of tiny sapphires intertwined into the heavy mass of hair. A lock of hair of the left side of her head had been tucked behind her ear, ready for the warrior to braid, and the family braid Thorin had woven months ago was worn free from the chignon.

“You’re welcome,” he said, smiling wider when Eira stepped back and the hobbit rose to her feet. “You look beautiful.”

“I feel overdressed,” she groused, then realized that her brother was in his formal garments as well. “Special meetings today?”

“Unfortunately,” he commented. “The others will be dressed up too so you won’t be the only one looking their best. Now, may I have the honor of escorting two beautiful ladies to the King’s Hall?”

Eira looked at Clover, who tilted her head playfully, and the dwarrowdam laughed.

“You’re fortunate my husband isn’t here to hear that, cousin.”

“Dain is forever praising your beauty, Eira, and if he found I didn’t make an offer in this manner, he’d try to crack my head open with his leg,” he reminded her, making both women giggle.

“I suppose I shall oblige you then,” Eira said, taking his right arm while Clover took his left. “If only to save you from my silly husband’s wrath.”

“For which I shall be eternally grateful,” he teased, escorting them out of Clover’s old room towards the hall.

The King’s Hall, where they had tried to kill the dragon with liquid gold, had been attended to during the earlier renovations since the gold would make the floor too slick to be walked on. At Kili’s suggestion, some workers had etched designs to try to give the floor more traction and it had worked. It wasn’t Thorin’s favorite room because of the gold surface, but it was one of the few areas that could be used for the ceremony.

Clover looked surprised when they entered the room to find all of the dwarrow who had accompanied Dain waiting in the massive hall. She’d expected this part to be just family, but it seemed all of the dwarrow had decided to celebrate the marriage.

Eira joined her husband near the front of the room, and Thorin escorted Clover to where his sister-sons, Balin, and Dwalin were waiting. He positioned her to stand in front of her husband and took his own position next to the couple.

“Today is a day of celebration,” he called out. “Dwalin, son of Fundin, has found his One in my sister, Clover, daughter of Belladonna. Today, they will give each other formal braids so that all will know they are joined together by the will of Mahal and His Wife, Yavanna.”

At Thorin’s nod, Dwalin stepped closer to his wife and pulled the lock of hair that had been left free for this purpose from behind her ear. He braided the lock, voice firm as he spoke.

“By the will of Mahal, I recognize you as the other half of my soul. I will love, protect, and honor you as we walk this life together. With this braid, I now claim you as mine,” he told her, ending the braid with a beautiful silver and sapphire clasp.

She smiled, claiming a lock of Dwalin’s beard and began braiding. Clover pitched her voice so it could be heard, and her eyes were bright as she braided.

“By the will of Yavanna, I recognize you as the other half of my soul. I will love, protect, and honor you as we walk this life together. With his braid, I now claim you as mine,” she stated, taking the bead from Thorin and using it to seal the braid.

“These vows are heard and witnessed. May the Valar bless you both,” Thorin told them, shaking his head and laughing when Dwalin cupped her face and eagerly kissed her. 

The hall was full of cheering when the kiss ended; everyone was glad to see one of their own finding his One. It was always a time of celebration when that happened, and the noise was incredible considering the hall wasn’t full.

When the kiss ended, their eyes met and she smiled happily up at her husband, silently thanking the Valar for bringing them together. She’d had no idea that when thirteen dwarrow and an annoying Istar had invaded her smial that she would be meeting her cariad.

Her heart was full of joy knowing she had pretty much everything she had ever wanted standing right here in this mountain. There was only one thing that her heart still yearned for and, Yavanna willing, that would happen in time.

“All right, gayadê?”

“Never better, fy anwylyd. I am happier than I have ever been,” she answered, smiling into the kiss he bestowed once he heard her answer.

The kiss soon ended, and the couple followed their king to the feast. Both of them were thanking their creators for the blessing bestowed today and if they also sent a quick prayer for a future blessing, only their creators would know!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note – I hope everyone enjoyed this. Quick translations: fy mrawd means my brother and fy anwylyd means my belovedin Welsh (which I’m using for the native Hobbit language) and gayadê is khuzdul for my joy.

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s End Notes – As per my usual habit, I chose Welsh to draw the vocabulary for Hobbitish since Tolkien didn’t give us a language for hobbits other than Westron. Fy mrawd means my brother.


End file.
